


Ruins

by CheerfullyMorbid



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Soldiers, Gen, One Shot, Seeker Trines, Seeker culture, but with alien robots, eventually, no longer a one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerfullyMorbid/pseuds/CheerfullyMorbid
Summary: The war ended with a lucky shot. Megatron and Shockwave were dead, Starscream was missing, and the majority of the Decepticons were captured, or even helping the Autobots rebuild.Skywarp escaped.And when the Autobots discovered a dark secret about the four seekers in their brig, they came looking for answers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MamzelleSouris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleSouris/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Another Deception](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857274) by [MamzelleSouris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleSouris/pseuds/MamzelleSouris). 



> Inspired by MamzelleSouris's fic Another Decepticon. If you haven't read it, I recommend it, but you shouldn't need to to understand this.

Ratchet sat down heavily. "They're children," he said. 

The other officers at the table blinked at him. "Come again?" said Optimus. 

"The seekers. All four of them. They had their adult upgrades done far too early. They must have been sparklings when it happened. Thundercracker's the only one who's of age, and that's barely."

Even Red Alert was shocked into silence at that news. "Who could have done it?" Prowl finally asked.

"Starscream," Ironhide said, shrugging. 

"Maybe," said Ratchet. "My concern is what to do with them now."

"We aren't keeping them locked up," declared the Prime. Red Alert spat static. "They were clearly forced into the war, it's not their fault. We'll have to assign them guardians, of course, and have measures in place to keep them from damaging anyone,"  Red Alert relaxed fractionally, "but we aren't locking them away." 

"Skywarp might know somethin' 'bout the upgrades," said Jazz. They hadn't bothered trying to capture Skywarp after the last battle. He was too slippery. 

"Or he could be another child," Prowl said.

Optimus's field flared in horror. "And he's out there alone. Jazz, do you think you can catch him?"

Jazz tipped his helm back, considering. "I have been keepin' an optic on 'is movements," he said. He thought a little more. "I'll need about two dozen mechs," he said at last. "And ten cycles ta prepare. But I can do it."

"You have them," said the Prime. 

Prowl, said, "Can I offer my assistance?"

"Sure thing, mech."

They leaned towards each other, murmuring, while Ratchet and Red Alert descended into an argument over security measures, the Prime's gentle voice occasionally cutting in. 

*

Skywarp kept an optic on the fading light. His tiny solar converter needed a whole cycle's worth of light to fill an energon cube, but he didn't like being so exposed. His wings were perked for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. Even though the Autobots hadn't yet done more than a cursory survey of this sector, he had to be careful. They could come at any time. And there were Shockwave's booby traps to consider. He'd already bumped into of one of them, and repairing the damage after hadn't been fun.

As the last rays of the sun faded to nothing, he collected the cycle's energon and dropped it into subspace, along with his solar converter. He got moving, walking to conserve energon. His tanks were low, a little lower and he wouldn't have enough for an emergency warp, but he wanted to get back into hiding before fueling up. 

A nice thing about Skywarp's mapping software was that he could remember every battlefield he'd ever flown over--and most of Cybertron had been a battlefield at some point. That meant he knew every crevice, every out-of-the-way shelter, every ruin, for kilometers around. He might say he could navigate the planet with his optics off, but that was how he'd found Shockwave's booby trap. He wasn't going to try that again, no matter how bored he got.

Even worse than the fear of the Autobots or the minimal fuel was the boredom. Skywarp had never been good at boredom. Occasional flights, in the dark of the off cycle, helped only a little. Tracking Autobot patrols was even worse, though he did it anyway. If his trine mates were with him, he'd have played pranks and made them laugh, but it was harder when it was just him. He'd gotten really good at twirling bits of rubble between his digits, and stacking them into strange shapes. He'd been tempted to try singing once, but it was too risky, so close to the Autobot base. 

He didn't want to get too far from the it. There might be a chance to rescue his trine mates. So far, Skywarp didn't think the Autobots had hurt them, hadn't felt it through the bond, but it could only be a matter of time.

Skywarp reached his current hideout, a dip in the rubble that lead to a small hollow underground, and checked for any sign of disturbance. Finding none, he ducked inside. It wasn't comfortable, but he could see the stars when he gazed up, and no one could see him, so that was all right.

He drank half the cycle's cube before lying down. He hadn't had his tanks properly filled since the war ended, but he was managing. Occasionally an Autobot patrol would leave behind a half-drunk cube of energon, and that was always nice. It was weird; he hadn't thought the fearsome Autobot Jazz would be so forgetful.

He thought of his trine mates as he'd last seen them. Starscream, smirking, on his way to a pre-battle meeting with Megatron. Thundercracker, after Megatron's death, pinned to the ground with the Prime himself standing over him.

He had to get them out. If only he knew how.

The stars spun lazily above him. Even watching them, it took Skywarp a very long time to slip into recharge.

*

"You sure these are the coordinates?"

Skywarp just managed not to jerk as he came out of recharge.

"Shh!"

This wasn't good.

"Why? No way he's here. This is just a whole lot of nothing."

"Like your processor. Shh!"

The voices quieted. Skywarp dialed up his sensors. They were off to his left, maybe fifteen meters from his hideout. The voices were of those grabby Autobot twins, but they might have more with them. He pulled a small blaster from subspace. Most of his weapons were drained for fuel, but not this one. It wouldn't be dangerous unless he hit just the right place, but Skywarp wasn't worried about that. There was a crunch of peds on gravel, a grating sound from something knocked slightly off its place.

Skywarp moved.

He didn't have to watch for his footing as he leapt out of his hollow, firing his thrusters for extra lift. He ducked to the right, firing two warning shots at the handful of Autobots he saw. They charged at him, but his calculations were ready. He ducked through the warp gate before the Autobots reached him.

He swayed a little on his peds when he left the gate. Skywarp's teleports had always taken a lot of fuel, but the cost felt dearer these cycles.

Hide first. Energon after.

This hideout was a hill covered in partial walls, lying flat or sticking up at odd angles. One of Skywarp's favorites, for it looked so strange. There were dozens of potential rest places here, where walls clustered and leaned against each other, as if for support. There were a couple pieces of deactivated frames under those walls, but that didn't bother Skywarp.

He was turning for one such cluster when his wings sensed movement.

He spun towards it. There was nothing there, as far as his optics were concerned. That particular mound of rubble looked as it always had. But something had definitely moved.

Skywarp's grip tightened on his blaster.

A big red Autobot jumped out of the hologram in front of him, a large net in servo. Ironhide. Skywarp dodged back, but his reaction was slowed by the low fuel, and the net's edge caught his helm and the tip of one wing. Ironhide tugged, and Skywarp sprawled forward, elbows crunching down rubble.

He snarled at the Autobot, bringing his blaster up, but someone else grabbed his arm and wrestled the weapon from his grip. 

There were four of them, and it didn't take long before Skywarp was pinned by both their weight and the net now tangled around him. A detached servo sat inches from his faceplate. It had two missing digits.

He felt something touch the back of his helm, then nothing.

*

Skywarp kept still, optics dark, when he woke. He had to take stock of the situation before his captors noticed he was online.

There was a berth underneath him. A real, honest-to-Primus berth, with a pillow even. His wings had never touched anything so good.

He wasn't restrained. That was weird. And he didn't think he was in a cell; the space felt too large.

His subspace and warp gate generator were disabled, naturally. And his flight systems, including his antigravs. Not that he had the energy to fly. Stupid twins. 

"I know you're awake. You were twitching just a click ago."

Skywarp lit his optics just to glare murderously at the speaker. It was one of the Autobot medical officers, standing at a console. The grumpy one. Hatchet? No, Ratchet. That was his name. He didn't look phased by the murderous glare.

"You've been recharging for most of the cycle," the medic said. "Your systems took over and kept you resting even after the sedatives wore off. Guess you needed it."

Skywarp sat up slowly, glancing around the room. Some sort of medbay, with a row of berths and scanners. One other berth was occupied. A privacy field distorted his view, so he couldn't tell who it was. A guard, hiding?

"Hungry?" asked Ratchet. Skywarp gave him an eloquent shrug.

All the berths were fitted with restraints. Skywarp still didn't know why they hadn't been used on him. And off past Ratchet, at the end of the room, was a door. It was probably locked, but worth a try. He could look for his trine mates--he could tell they were close.

He ran for it.

Low fuel meant it was a clumsier run than usual. Even so, Skywarp did not expect to find himself on the floor quite so abruptly. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs wouldn't respond.

"Really, kid?" Ratchet huffed. He stomped over to Skywarp, easily scooping him up and depositing him back on the berth. Stupid heavy grounders. He stepped back, studying Skywarp for a moment. Skywarp pulled his field in close.

"You've been outfitted with comm-linked stasis generators. Right now I've got the codes for them, but once your guardian is chosen I'll pass them on. They're to stop you pulling dumb slag like run off or attack someone." Ratchet vented. "Now, if I turn them off, are you going to behave?"

Skywarp managed an assenting grumble. He scooted back from the medic once his frame started listening to him again, watching the Autobot warily. 

Ratchet pulled a cube of energon from subspace. "Hungry?" he asked again. 

Skywarp reached for it without meaning to, and was surprised when Ratchet set it in his servo. He took a careful sip. It was actually energon, plain but good. He drank more quickly, suddenly afraid the Autobot might grab it back. He really was hungry.

As he was drinking, Ratchet spoke. "We know you were upgraded too soon, kid."

And now he was not hungry. He lowered the cube, waiting for Ratchet to continue.

"You, Thundercracker, Thrust and his trine--all of you. It was obvious as soon as we did a spark scan."

They'd scanned his spark? He shuddered, feeling for a moment as though his insides had frozen.

"Of course we can't keep you locked up, knowing that, but what we don't know is who did it to you. Can you tell me?" Ratchet asked.

Skywarp kept his gaze averted. From what he remembered, the upgrades had been done "for" him, not "too", but he wasn't going to explain that to an Autobot! 

Ratchet's field teeked disappointment at his silence. Skywarp pulled his field away from it. "Okay. Do you have any questions?"

Skywarp had plenty of questions. He just wasn't going to ask them.

Ratchet seemed to realize that after a few clicks. "I've got one, because First Aid nearly had a spark attack when he was emptying your subspace. Is there any particular reason you were carrying around a large piece of someone's dead frame?"

Skywarp tensed.

"It's a very odd behavior. Did you take it from one of the battlefields out there?"

Skywarp's field escaped his control for a moment. Ratchet must have read the "no" from that, because he continued. "Is it from someone you killed?"

"No!" The word burst from Skywarp's vocalizer suddenly enough, it startled both mechs.

"Then where did you get it?" Ratchet demanded.

"Vos!"

Ratchet's faceplate softened, flicking through expressions too quickly for Skywarp to interpret. "Oh," he said. "Is it one of your creators?"

Skywarp gave in and nodded.

"We'll keep it safe," Ratchet promised. Probably lying. "What was their name?"

Skywarp didn't know either of his creators' names. None of their friends survived the bombings to tell him. He stayed silent.

Ratchet patted his knee. "Finish your energon." He went back to the console, typing...something. Skywarp couldn't see the screen.

He wondered what the medic was up to as he sipped at his energon. Why was he writing so much? Was it something to do with him? They couldn't have that much data on him already, could they?

What had the Autobot meant about a guardian? Was it code? He didn't want a guardian, he was an elite seeker. He wanted his trine. The bond said they were close, one of them very close, and being so near after all this time without seeing them was maddening.

Within a quarter jour, Skywarp was rethinking his refusal to ask any questions. He set the empty energon cube aside, and before fear could mute his vocalizer, blurted, "Where's my trine?"

Ratchet's servos, tapping away at the console, stilled. He turned to Skywarp. "Thundercracker was recently placed in Prowl's care. He's...adjusting. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

"He got a flight sim?" That was important.

Ratchet's optics flickered. "No, but now we know to look for one. Thank you."

Skywarp crossed his arms. Stupid grounders. Even Hook had known a grounded seeker would need access to a flight simulator, though he'd groused constantly about it. Even Shockwave had known. Was this Autobot saying they'd been slowly killing his trine mate for all this time, by accident?

"An' Starscream?" Skywarp asked, fearing worse.

"Ah." Ratchet looked sad, of all things. "He vanished just before that last battle. We, ah, assumed Megatron had killed him, only found out otherwise a few cycles back. He'd been locked up in the Nemesis isolation cell." 

Skywarp trembled. That was even worse than his imaginings.

"But, he's alive. We found him, he's here in the medbay, in stasis. We're working on repairs, but they'll take time."

Skywarp studied the Autobot. He didn't look like he was joking. "What." 

"We're repairing him. Not sure how long it will take, but he's a stubborn one. He'll be fine."

Hearing it again didn't make it make more sense. He reset his audials, in case he was having a really weird glitch. "You're...repairing...him?" 

Now Ratchet looked confused. At least that was two of them. "Why wouldn't we?"

Skywarp could think of several reasons, starting with Vos and going through the entire war, but he didn't say anything. 

"Kid..." Ratchet sighed. "Look, it's what decent mechs are supposed to do. Help each other out, take care of each other when we need it. It's why the Prime wouldn't leave the other seekers locked up once we learned how young you all are. Why we had you brought in, rather than leaving you out to starve. We may mess it up sometimes, but we always try to be kind."

What was "kind", and did Skywarp want it anywhere near him? He didn't think so. He shifted, subtly backing away from Ratchet. Weird grounder. 

"The war led a lot of mechs to forget that, but they're starting to remember," Ratchet continued, reaching a servo out and putting it on Skywarp's knee. Their fields brushed, and Skywarp felt the mech's conviction. He really believed what he was saying. Maybe all the Autobots thought that way...

Or maybe the mech was crazy. Yeah, that was probably it.


	2. Chapter 2

Ratchet kept his passive sensors on Skywarp while keeping his apparent focus on the screen in front of him. He had been writing up an overdue report or three; now he was playing a game one of the humans had compared to something called 'spider solitaire.' It let him focus his real attention on the young seeker, without frightening him.

Skywarp had spent the past several breems frozen on his berth, barely twitching a wing. Ratchet could feel his optics burning into the side of his helm. But now the seeker slid to the floor behind the berth, hardly making a sound.

Ratchet closed the game, pulling up the feed from the nearest security cameras. He found one that gave him a decent view of his unwilling guest. Skywarp had his knees pulled up to his cockpit, arms locked around them. One servo was free, and the digits kept curling and uncurling in an erratic rhythm. His wings were shaking. If it weren't for the stasis generators, he'd have probably tried to bolt again.

"You okay?" Ratchet called, turning his helm to look towards Skywarp. He didn't get a response, besides clicking. He was about to try again when his comm activated.

::Ratchet.::

::Prime. Get Red to stop shouting yet?::

The Prime did not dignify that with a response. ::We've selected Ironhide to be Skywarp's caretaker.::

::Good to know. I'll send him the codes for the stasis generators.::

::How is he?::

Ratchet chanced another look at Skywarp, who hadn't left his shelter, and sent Optimus the image file. ::Scared. Tried to run when he first woke. Asked about his trine.::

::Have you let him see Starscream?::

::No, but I will. Jolt should be done with the current repairs by now.::

::Ironhide will pick him up in a jour, then. Optimus out.::

Ratchet crossed over to Skywarp and crouched beside him. Skywarp didn't look his way, but he hissed softly. "Very scary," Ratchet said dryly. "Would you like to see Starscream?"

Skywarp's restless movements halted. He nodded, once, still averting his gaze. 

In that moment, Ratchet was astonished that no one had realized any of the seekers' true ages. Skywarp looked terribly young and vulnerable, for all that he had the frame of a hardened warrior. He couldn't keep any emotion off his faceplate. Perhaps he'd lost that skill, alone in the ruins.

Ratchet stood. "Come on, then." He held out a servo to help Skywarp up, but the young mech didn't take it. He stood on his own, using the berth for balance.

Ratchet led him to the other end of the secure wing, where Starscream's berth was still hidden by a privacy field. "Jolt," he called. "How's it going in there?"

The privacy field deactivated. "Just finished," Jolt said. He held an armload of tools. "I was about to start cleaning up. Hi, Skywarp." Skywarp ignored him, focusing on the unconscious Starscream.

Ratchet thought Starscream looked much improved, but then, he'd seen the mech after he was first rescued. First Aid had cleaned the grime off his plating, and patches had been put over the tears in his wings. Apart from his unnatural stillness, the machines hooked up to keep his energon flowing, and the covers over his optics, Starscream now looked like he was just in recharge.

Skywarp reached a cautious servo to Starscream, digits just brushing the plating of one arm, before pulling back with a shudder. He clicked softly. 

"You can touch him," Ratchet said. "Just don't jostle anything."

When Thundercracker had had this opportunity, he'd spent most of the time on a tactile exploration of all of Starscream's damages. Skywarp only took one of Starscream's servos, lacing their digits together, and let his optics rove over his trine mate. The clicking got louder.

"He'll be fine," Ratchet promised again. "Jolt just finished fixing his fuel pump. He'd been running on some really low quality energon; it gunked things up."

From the sterilizing station, cleaning his tools, Jolt chuckled. "Gunked up. Is that a technical term?"

"Hush, you," Ratchet said. Skywarp's wing twitched. "We'll need to replace a lot of his sensor net; it shorted out from disuse. But once that's done, he'll recover just fine." Assuming he woke up. Ratchet thought the chances of that were only forty percent, but Starscream was by all accounts the most stubborn mech alive. And he'd only needed spark support for the first three cycles; now he just needed a coding patch to minimize spark flares. Ratchet was learning to expect surprises from this patient.

He stood beside Skywarp for a few breems, listening to him click and Starscream's spark monitor beep. When he reached a servo for Skywarp's shoulder, the seeker recoiled. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he said. Skywarp didn't look like he believed him. "Just wanted to ask about that 'flight sim' you mentioned earlier. What is it? What does it do?"

There was silence for a few clicks. 

"S'a flight sim," Skywarp said eventually, still looking at Starscream. "Can't fly, helps. Mimics."

Ratchet began to wonder about Skywarp's language skills. Clearly this line of questioning wasn't going to be very useful. "You mean a flight simulator?" 

Skywarp nodded.

Now they were getting somewhere. "Okay, do you know where we might find one?"

"Nemesis. Med bay. Dunno where Shockwave's is." Evidently deciding the conversation was finished, Skywarp resumed clicking.

Ratchet wasn't done, though. "Shockwave had one? How do you know?"

Silence. 

At least it wasn't as bad as his attempted conversation with Ramjet. Actual words had been spoken! Shaking his helm ruefully, Ratchet considered another way of getting the young mech to open up.

He waited until Skywarp's EM field, which had been slowly stretching out from the seeker's plating without Skywarp's notice, was close enough for him to feel. The kid was scared and sad and angry, it showed. Mostly scared, and that fear was starting to increase the longer he stood next to Starscream. 

That wouldn't do. "Do you want a rust stick?" Ratchet asked.

Skywarp looked at him. "What?"

"A rust stick," Ratchet repeated. He pulled a packet of them from subspace.

Skywarp's wings hiked up, but he didn't say anything. Ratchet took his arm and led him away from Starscream's berth to the door. Skywarp's confusion was, thankfully, enough to stop him putting up more than a token resistance.

"I make them," Ratchet said, releasing Skywarp's arm long enough to type in the unlock code, and handing the seeker a rust stick, before taking his arm again. "It's a hobby of mine, very relaxing. Go on, try it."

Skywarp tentatively touched the rust stick to his glossa. His expression became an amusing mixture of bewilderment and delight. Ratchet used his distraction to lead him into the main room of the med bay.

"Sit here," Ratchet said, showing him to a berth near the front of the room. Skywarp nervously perched on the very edge of it. "Finish your rust stick."

The med bay was largely deserted; it was late in the cycle, and the operation to capture Skywarp had resulted in only trivial scuffs and dents, long since repaired. First Aid was wiping down berths, halfway across the room. Apart from him, not a soul was in sight. Good. Might keep the kid from panicking.

Ratchet checked his chronometer. Ironhide would be coming for Skywarp in just a few breems. He commed him. ::Ironhide?::

::Ratchet. Got Skywarp ready for me? Mirage has my quarters secure.::

::About that. I haven't told him it's you.::

::...Why?::

::Kid's scared half to death, Hide. I've already had to use the stasis generators once when he tried to run. I'm really not in the mood to handle a panic attack.::

::Last time he saw me, I trapped him in a net, Ratch. If he sees me with no warning, he'll definitely panic.::

::Then why did you volunteer to take him?::

::Who else could? Everyone else with any experience corraling feral young mechs already has one to worry about.::

::I'll warn him you're coming.:: Ratchet signed off, and vented slowly.

*

Skywarp kept a wary optic on the big doors at the front of the room. He didn't like being so close to them. It felt too exposed.

Then again... He didn't glance at Ratchet, but his sensors told him where the Autobot was. Out of grabbing distance. Facing away from him. And the other medic was absorbed in his work.

He stuck the last of the rust stick in his mouth. Ratchet might be insane, but he made good rust sticks. Or maybe he'd think that no matter what it tasted like, because he hadn't had any in so long.

When Ratchet took another step away, shaking his helm, Skywarp moved for the doors.

Not quickly; quick movement attracted attention. But steadily, purposefully. If you acted like you were supposed to be doing whatever you were doing, mechs were a lot less likely to try to stop you. He'd used that knowledge frequently for pranks.

The doors opened at his approach. He stiffened, but Ratchet was gesturing like a mech having a commed argument, and the other one was stepping into a back room.

He made it into the hallway, doors shutting behind him. No guards stationed outside, which he'd half expected, but it wasn't like they were needed with the stasis generators.

What was the range on those things? Skywarp intended to find out.

No running this time, just a determined stride that had made mechs scurry out of his way on the Nemesis. Not that they were likely to do the same here; it might be scratched and covered in grime, but he still wore the Decepticon insignia, and this was an Autobot base. He turned away whenever he heard voices and took turns at random, trusting his mapping software to keep him from getting lost.

He was four hallways away from the med bay when his legs abruptly stopped working and he landed face first on the floor again, limbs everywhere. Ouch.

So that hadn't been as productive as he'd hoped.

And there were voices and ped steps coming his way. Great. They stopped next to him. He glanced to the side and managed to recognize the yellow peds of one of the grabby twins, and the red peds of Ironhide. Two Autobots with famously bad tempers. 

Spectacular. 

"Skywarp?" Ironhide said, sounding confused. Skywarp growled.

The grabby twin poked his wing. He hissed, unable to retaliate. "Wow. Ratchet wasn't kidding about the stasis generators."

"Don't do that," Ironhide said, batting the grabby twin away. Skywarp didn't have time to be grateful, because then the big grounder was rolling him over and scooping him up. "Care to explain what you're doing out here?" he asked, once Skywarp was securely in his grip.

Skywarp didn't respond. He thought it was rather self-explanatory, personally. Escape attempts were what prisoners did.

Hopefully the punishment for this one wouldn't be too damaging.

Ironhide started walking, the grabby twin following. Skywarp's mapping software helpfully informed him that they were going in the direction of the med bay.

"Before you wandered off, did Ratchet tell you who you'll be staying with? Who your guardian is going to be?"

Skywarp was silent, apart from a whining in his thrusters that he couldn't seem to stop. Why did they keep talking about guardians? It didn't make sense.

"I'll take that as a no," Ironhide said. "Well, it's me." Behind him, the grabby twin growled.

There was no way the big mech could miss the fear that shot through Skywarp, carrying him as he was. Skywarp tried to wrestle his emotions under control again. He couldn't show them any weakness. Starscream always said that was dangerous.

But oh, he was frightened. Grounded, imprisoned, with his trine leader unconscious and wounded, surrounded by the mechs responsible for destroying his city. And now Ironhide, one of the biggest and most fearsome Autobots, was claiming to be his guardian. Maybe he was as insane as Ratchet. Skywarp was afraid.

He couldn't quite keep a keen from reaching his vocalizer, but neither Autobot commented on it.

*

::Ironhide, I've lost Skywarp,:: Ratchet commed. ::I swear I looked away from him for only a click--::

::I found him,:: Ironhide interrupted. ::You can turn the stasis generators off. I've got him.::

::Oh, good. Did he cause you any trouble?::

::Nope. Found him limp in the middle of the corridor. All he's been able to do is growl.::

::Turning the stasis generators off now,:: Ratchet sent. ::Come meet me in the med bay? I need to give you his supplements.::

::On our way.:: Ironhide signed off. Skywarp twitched in his hold, limbs starting to respond to him again. Ironhide set him on his peds, but kept hold of one arm. "Are you okay, kid?"

Sunstreaker scoffed. Skywarp stayed silent. 

Ironhide continued heading towards the med bay, pulling Skywarp along. They passed Sunstreaker's quarters, and the warrior left them with a short farewell. Skywarp only got more tense after that, especially as they came closer to the med bay.

By the time they reached the doors to the med bay, Ironhide had to drag Skywarp forward. The kid's servo latched onto the doorframe and he clung to it, a faint whimper reaching Ironhide's audials.

"Come on," Ironhide said, tugging. "It's just Ratchet." A final tug pulled Skywarp into the room, wings hiked up and optics overbright.

"What part of 'sit there' did you not understand?" Ratchet asked, approaching them. He handed Ironhide a supplement packet and pinged him the stasis generator codes while Skywarp attempted to make himself smaller--wings tucked down, armor pulled in tight--without actually hiding behind anything.

"Thanks, Ratchet," Ironhide said, choosing to ignore Skywarp's fear for the moment.

Ratchet turned to Skywarp. "You're to take those supplements with every cube of energon," he informed him. "I'll see you in ten cycles for a check up."

Skywarp didn't respond. Of course not. Ironhide was reminded of his attempts to get Sunstreaker to talk to him, when he'd found the twins in Tyger Pax.

This wasn't going to be easy, but it wasn't the first time he'd had to get a frightened young mech to trust him. Ironhide would manage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp and other characters kept giving me ideas for this, so I'm continuing it!
> 
> Which leaves me with two active works in progress. We'll see how it goes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics: flashback

 

Ironhide let go of Skywarp once they were safely in his quarters. The seeker scrambled away when Ironhide turned to lock the door. Ironhide looked back to find he'd ducked behind the couch. He could just see the kid's optics, locked on to him.

Definitely like the twins when he'd found them. 

Ironhide grabbed a data pad at random as he passed the shelves, and took a chair near the couch, but not too near. "That's your room," he said, nodding at the appropriate door. "Red insists you're locked in at night, sorry about that. My room's across from it, and the wash racks are over there."

Skywarp didn't respond.

Ironhide glanced at him. The seeker's plating was filthy with dust and grime. He likely hadn't seen a wash rack since the last battle. In several places, there were spots clear of dirt, but the paint underneath was bubbled. He'd been caught in an acid rain storm at some point. 

"You wanna use the wash racks?" he offered. "Solvent's rationed, we only get ten clicks each, but you can get the dust off."

Skywarp's optics flicked from the wash racks to Ironhide and back again several times before he moved. Ironhide carefully didn't react, simply flipping through his data pad while the seeker edged past him. It was Jazz's notes about the op to catch Skywarp. Awkward.

It wasn't until after the wash rack door locked behind his new charge that Ironhide wondered--would Skywarp be able to scrub his wings on his own? He'd seen Praxians have trouble, and Skywarp's wings were longer than Prowl's or Bluestreak's. Not that Skywarp was likely to let him help.

Ah, well. Something to suggest once Skywarp learned to trust him a bit.

Ironhide knew several ways to convince a frightened young mech to give him just a little trust. They included:

Humor

Games

Treats

Hugs

Figuring out and encouraging their hobbies and interests

And especially, time. Time spent proving cycle after cycle that he wasn't going to hurt them or leave them. Time teaching and listening to them, even when they did their best to push him away.

Skywarp might take more time than Sunstreaker, or even Sideswipe, had. But Ironhide also didn't have to worry about Decepticon attacks this time around, which would definitely make things easier.

*

_Kalis wasn't a ruin, yet, but it was well on the way to becoming one. Hardly any lights were on anymore, at least in this sector. Sideswipe dodged around the rubble in an alleyway, giggling with the thrill of victory. They'd have full tanks tonight. Sunstreaker limped behind his twin, sensors listening hard for seeker engines. Those flying demons had almost killed them in the last bombing, without even noticing. At least he'd been able to knock Sideswipe out of danger._

_Some cycle, Sunstreaker was going to find a way to make those seekers feel as helpless as he had. Maybe once he'd had his final upgrades. He'd outweigh any seeker then._

_There was a partially collapsed building a few blocks from the Autobot base. The front door and the upper floors were inaccessible, but if you knew where to look, and were small enough to manage it, you could get into the basement through the side wall. It had been their hideout since their arrival in Kalis. Stealing wasn't the best way of living, but it was a far sight better than the "Future Decepticons" arena in Kaon, or trying to scratch out a living in the wilds._

_Sideswipe ducked into the hideout, laughter trailing behind him. Sunstreaker moved to follow, but a massive hand reached out from the shadows nearby and scooped him up._

_Any youngling in Kaon knew not to squirm if a bigger bot picked you up, it would just make them hurt you more, but Sunstreaker panicked. "Sides, run!" he cried, clawing and kicking uselessly. The big bot's digits shifted, pinning his arms to his sides. Sunstreaker braced for a painful, crushing squeeze, but none materialized._

_His captor simply brought him up to his optic level, looking him over. Sunstreaker shivered under that cold blue gaze. Eventually the mech said, "You're not a Cassetticon."_

_Somewhere above them, Sideswipe shouted, "Of course we're not, dumb aft!" Naturally, Sunstreaker's twin couldn't have done the sensible thing and listened to him! He had to go climbing on rooftops instead!_

_The big mech's voice turned amused. "I don't suppose you've seen any? Or know anything about missing energon cubes?"_

_"Nope," was Sideswipe's glib response._

_"You must be hungry, then," the big mech said with a frown._

_They were, they were, but Sideswipe only repeated, "Nope."_

_Sunstreaker squirmed again when the big mech started walking. "You're damaged," the mech informed him, as if Sunstreaker hadn't noticed. "It's not safe for a youngling to be out here alone."_

_"Hey!" Sideswipe yelled. "Where are you taking him? Put him down! Sunny!"_

_"You're welcome to come, too," the big mech said. "I'm Ironhide. What's your name?"_

_"Shut your vocalizer!"_

_"That's quite a long name. Do you have a nickname?"_

_Sunstreaker stayed silent as his brother shouted at Ironhide. He didn't like talking to people that weren't Sideswipe, and this mech was weird._

_But he hadn't hurt him yet. And he was walking slowly enough for Sideswipe to follow. Maybe he was okay._

_Maybe._

*

Thundercracker had barely touched his energon, Prowl saw from the doorway. He just sat on his berth and stared out the window.

The seeker didn't even glance his way when Prowl entered the room, grabbed the desk chair, and seated himself in front of him. 

Unfortunate, but Prowl hadn't expected much else from his new charge. There were reasons Jazz hadn't visited his quarters since the seeker's arrival.

"Skywarp's been retrieved," Prowl said. "He's unharmed, and will be staying with Ironhide."

Thundercracker didn't even twitch at the news, but his EM field showed a conflicted mix of relief and worry, affection and anger.

Prowl continued. "Would you like to see him?"

That got Thundercracker's attention. He glanced at Prowl, nodded once, then went back to looking out the window.

"I'll make the arrangements, then."

Prowl probably should have left. Thundercracker obviously wanted nothing to do with him. But he stayed an extra few clicks, trying to find the right words to say. 

Prowl had known Thundercracker and his trine as something other than enemies, once. In the early days of the war, they'd worked together for several missions. It seemed so long ago now. Before Praxus. Before the trine's promotion. Before Prowl had walked away from the Decepticons.

He'd never suspected a thing. 

Or maybe he had; maybe he'd suppressed those suspicions, the same way he'd suppressed his disgust at Megatron's more violent excesses. How could he have missed that the soldiers he'd been sending into battle were only sparklings? Maybe he could have noticed. Maybe he could have helped them, before all those vorns of war and abuse had the chance to scar and harden the young mech he now found in his care. Maybe--

Maybes were not useful. He just had to work with what was. 

That didn't stop Prowl from regretting what might have been. 

In the end, he only said, "Drink your energon," before leaving Thundercracker to his window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on backstories, for those of you who came here from Another Decepticon: I'm making these backstories up, and they don't match Another Decepticon's backstories, especially in Prowl's case.


	4. Chapter 4

__

Skywarp peered out of the wash racks warily, but Ironhide wasn't waiting right outside the door to grab him. In fact, the big Autobot wasn't even looking at him, instead watching the screen of the entertainment console as it flipped through what looked like a list of shows.

Since Ironhide wasn't looking at him, Skywarp took the chance to approach the room designated as "his", walking quietly. The door opened at a touch.

It seemed like an ordinary room. Berth, blanket, desk, chair, some shelves. Skywarp entered slowly. The door appeared to no longer lock from the inside. He didn't like that. Anyone could get in.

To his surprise, some of the things from his subspace were on the desk. The pict file full of photos of his trine. A handful of interestingly shaped bits of rubble that he'd taken to carrying around. The geode he'd been meaning to give Starscream.

No sign of his creator's plating. Or his weapons. Or his solar converter, which would make getting energon difficult if he managed an escape. Still, it was more than he'd expected.

Autobots weren't nice. So why were they acting like it?

Peeking back out of the room, Skywarp saw that Ironhide still wasn't looking his way. He sidled across the short hallway to the door to the Autobot's room. It was locked, but maybe...

"The generators'll activate if you try ta hack the lock. Same for the main door."

There went that plan. Skywarp glared at Ironhide.

"Come sit down," the mech invited, patting the couch beside him.

Skywarp took a chair on the far side of the room, well out of the Autobot's reach. He wasn't sure what Ironhide intended for him, but he didn't think he'd like any of it.

Ironhide just looked amused at his choice of seat. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, kid," he said. "Just wanna talk."

Skywarp didn't respond.

"Do you know what guardians and caretakers were, before the war?"

Skywarp shifted a wing. He wondered how long he could stay silent before the Autobot lost his temper.

"They were adults who were chosen to take care of younglings whose creators had died or couldn't take care of them," Ironhide said. He didn't look bothered by Skywarp's silence yet. "We kept up the practice during the war for a long time. I was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's caretaker, before they had their adult upgrades. But not a lot of sparklings survived the early vorns of the war, and there haven't been many new sparklings created since."

Did he have a point to all this?

"Do you realize you're one of the youngest Cybertronians still alive?"

He didn't see why that mattered.

Ironhide stood slowly, and took the chair next to Skywarp. Skywarp got his thrusters under him, ready to leap away at the slightest notice. But there wasn't any aggression in Ironhide's field. Just sadness and affection. 

Which was weird. Grounders, especially Autobots, didn't care about seekers, except how pretty their frames were. He'd heard and seen plenty of evidence for that.

It was almost as weird as Ratchet and his talk about "kindness". Were all Autobots this crazy?

Ironhide was silent for a few clicks, apparently thinking through his next words. "It's my job to help you adjust to peacetime life, give you something like a normal younglinghood."

Right before Skywarp was upgraded, he'd overheard Dreadwing say, "Normal died with Vos." The words had stuck in his processor, even though he didn't remember much else from before his upgrade.

And Autobots were the ones to burn it. He had to remember that. Whatever care they pretended to have, it was a lie.

"Anyway," Ironhide said, "would you like to watch something on the console? We've got a load of Cybertronian and Earth programs. Or you can read any of the data pads on the shelves in here."

Skywarp didn't outwardly react.

"Blink once for the console, twice for a data pad," Ironhide said.

Skywarp snickered despite himself, and let his optics flicker off once.

*

_Acid Storm flew over the wreckage of his city, scanning for any spark signatures. A faint blip caught his attention, and he dove, landing on a broken beam that looked like it wouldn't shift too much. "Anyone here?" he called, glancing around._

_A faint rustle to his left had him moving again, carefully approaching the source of the sound. Search and rescue weren't really his forte, but at times like these, you became what you needed to._

_"Hello?" he called. "I'm here to help. Are you stuck?"_

_A whimper sounded, right in front of his peds. The unmistakable sound of a sparkling on the verge of crying._

_Acid Storm dropped to his knees, shoving the shattered remnants of a wall aside until he found a small purple leg. Thankfully, it was still attached to its owner. "There you are," he sighed, finally uncovering the sparkling._

_The sparkling just looked at him, vents hitching._

_Acid Storm held out a hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you somewhere safe."_

_The sparkling didn't move. When Acid Storm tried to lift the bitlet up, it yowled loudly enough to set his audials ringing, and tightened its grip on...something._

_A wing. A seeker's grayed-out wing, hidden under all the wreckage. Acid Storm was grateful most of the frame was out of sight. He was a chemist, not a soldier. He wasn't made for this!_

_His trine leader commed him. ::Find any more survivors?::_

_::One. A sparkling. He isn't letting go of his creator's body, though.:: Acid Storm tried pulling at the sparkling again, but the little one's claws were embedded into the armor. He didn't want to hurt the kid._

_There was silence for a click before Nova responded. ::Dreadwing says to cut whatever part of the frame he's got hold of off and bring it with.::_

_::Is that a joke?!::_

_::I wish it was. Apparently a few of the sparklings have been doing that, and we don't have time to talk all of them out of it. The Autobots are coming.::_

_Acid Storm huffed, reaching for his subspace. He thought he had a big enough knife in there somewhere. He kept it for self defense, but hadn't brought it out in a while. ::Fine, I'll do it. What about you? Any luck?::_

_::Icestorm found a trine of third frames, and a couple adults. I haven't found anyone yet.::_

_::When do the Autobots get here?:: Acid Storm began the grisly work of slicing a meter-wide piece of the wing away from the rest of the anonymous creator's frame._

_::One jour. We're all supposed to be out of the city in half an jour.::_

_::Copy that,:: Acid Storm replied. The sparkling kicked at him when the section of wing it still clung to finally broke off. He gave it an unimpressed look before grabbing it and taking to the sky._

_There was a long flight ahead of them._

*

Skywarp hadn't relaxed at all by the time the film finished; Ironhide wasn't sure he'd paid any attention to the story. Which was a pity, it was one of Bluestreak's favorites. It would be good for him to have something to talk about with one of the young Autobots.

Ironhide, on the other hand, was feeling very relaxed, and thinking fondly of his berth. He hadn't had any recharge the previous cycle, in all the fuss around catching Skywarp.

Refueling and talking needed to happen before Ironhide could rest, though. The seeker stiffened when Ironhide stood and went to the energon dispenser. Ironhide simply said, "Come sit at the table."

He half expected the kid to refuse to move, or bolt for his room. Instead, Skywarp did as he was asked, albeit very, very slowly. He jumped slightly when Ironhide set a cube of energon and a packet of supplements in front of him.

Ironhide sat with his own cube and supplements. "Go on," he said.

Skywarp just gave the supplements a dubious look.

"Ratchet will be unhappy if you don't take them," Ironhide said, regretfully mixing the powder into his energon. "I find it's easier to just go along with it." Even though they made his fuel taste like a scraplet had died in it, ugh.

His cube was half empty by the time Skywarp gave in and added the supplements.

"Good kid," he said anyway. Every youngling he'd ever worked with liked praise, even the half-feral Decepticon ones like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had started out as.

He let Skywarp refuel in silence, but once the kid was done, he reached across the table and caught hold of his hand. Skywarp's field flared in fear.

Hopefully Ironhide could lay those fears to rest. "So. Here's what's gonna happen next cycle," he said, watching Skywarp carefully. The seeker did not make optic contact. "In the mornin', Jazz is comin' by."

Skywarp's engine started whining, and the fear got stronger.

"He's got a couple questions for ya, but ya don't have ta answer if ya don't wanna. He's not gonna hurt ya. He went to an awful lotta trouble ta bring ya in safely, ya know."

Skywarp fidgeted, trying to pull his hand from Ironhide's grip.

"The questions are about the ruins, how ya stayed safe out there. He's pretty impressed with ya."

Skywarp's wings dipped the way Bluestreak's would when someone praised him.

"Then at 1300 jours, I've got a meeting. Don't trash the quarters while I'm gone."

Skywarp gave him an affronted look that Ironhide didn't believe. The kid was famous for his pranks, on Autobots and Decepticons both. They made a lot more sense now that Ironhide knew his real age.

"And after the meeting, Prowl's bringin' Thundercracker over ta see ya."

Skywarp didn't look like he knew how to react. His field was a conflicted mix of hope and anger.

"Do ya wanna see Thundercracker?" Ironhide asked, unsure where the anger came from.

"Yes!"

Oh good, the kid could talk. "Well then, you'll see him."

Skywarp nodded vaguely, finally tugging his hand free. His claws nicked Ironhide's palm as he did so, but Ironhide didn't comment on it. He checked his chrono.

"Right. Well, it's late, and I dunno 'bout you, but I'm exhausted. I'm gonna have ta lock ya in for the night, kay?"

The seeker looked terrified, but didn't resist as Ironhide led him to his room and locked the door behind him. Ironhide paused to listen for any sounds of panic.

Silence. Thank Primus.

As Ironhide turned to his own room, Sideswipe pinged his comm. ::Sunny says you're taking in the seeker teleporter?:: he asked, ignoring comm courtesy as usual.

Oh, joy. Ironhide sat on his berth, anticipating an argument. ::His name is Skywarp, and yes, I did.::

::You mean he's already in your quarters with you?! That's not safe, Hide!::

::Sunstreaker saw the stasis generators in action, ask him about them. It's safe.:: Ironhide laid back and offlined his optics, praying to Primus that that was it.

It wasn't. ::Okay, so you're not likely to get murdered in your berth. But seriously, Hide? Skywarp, of all mechs! Don't you remember Kalis?::

::I do. I also know how to do basic math. Sides, he's younger than Bumblebee. Still not an adult even now.::

Sideswipe went silent for a couple clicks, but didn't drop the comm. ::So at Kalis--::

::He was maybe, MAYBE, a hundred vorns old. Still just a sparkling. Half your age, and fighting a war already.:: Ironhide let Sideswipe mull that over for a few clicks. ::Now, if you don't mind, I haven't had the chance to catch up on recharge from last cycle since I had jours of meetings to deal with. Goodnight.::

He dropped the comm. Sideswipe didn't try to call again.

He'd need to talk to the twins about the situation more, but--later.

For now, he dropped into recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan to have a flashback this chapter, the flashback just sort of happened.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Skywarp was a bit less dusty and a lot more conscious than he'd been last time Jazz saw him.

He'd also somehow managed to wedge himself between the couch and the wall in Ironhide's quarters, and was resisting his guardian's efforts to coax him out. Adamantly. Ironhide had to jerk back to avoid a swipe of claws.

Jazz commed Ironhide. ::Let me try?::

::He's scared. Be gentle.::

Ironhide stepped back slowly, and Jazz took his place crouching beside the couch. Skywarp hissed at him, claws digging further into the couch's mesh, red optics burning.

"Hey, mechling," Jazz said softly, slowly, in a tone usually reserved for calming comrades after nightmares. "Watcha behind the couch for? That can't be comfortable."

Skywarp hissed again. Jazz reached his EM field out to brush his, and winced. Ironhide had understated it when he said the kid was scared. Skywarp was terrified.

"You've had a rough coupla cycles, haven't ya?" Jazz continued, keeping his voice and his field steady and calm. "Can't have been fun out in the ruins either."

No response. Not that he'd expected one so soon. ::This might take a while,:: he told Ironhide.

"It was clever of ya ta build that solar converter. And ya found all those hideouts no one else knew about." Jazz was only 86% certain he'd found them all, not that he'd tell Skywarp that. No need to give the kid ideas. "I bet ya know the ruins better than any mech on this base."

No nod, no words, but no more hissing either.

"I bet ya figured out where ol' Shocky had his traps set real quick. And I saw what ya did ta that scraplet nest. Ya did really well, survivin' all on your own."

Skywarp hadn't relaxed fully, but his claws definitely weren't as firmly hooked to the couch as they'd been earlier.

"I know ya tracked us on some of our patrols--no, I'm not mad--" Skywarp had recoiled, denta bared again. "I wondered if ya might wanna help me."

Confusion threaded through Skywarp's field, ever so slightly diluting the terror.

*

Grounders said that seekers didn't like small spaces. This was true--to a point.

They didn't like small spaces that they couldn't leave, and a seeker with a bit too much experience with such spaces might grow to hate every closet and small room they met. Starscream was like that. Bitstream, too.

But a seeker who wanted to hide, who didn't have the fuel to fly very far or who knew the closest open spaces were dangerous--that seeker would have no problem with small, tight spaces. They were defensible.

This is why Skywarp was still behind Ironhide's couch, even after Jazz had left and the quarters were allegedly safe again. Ironhide was still there, after all, and standing between him and his room. And there was that data pad Jazz had left on the table. Supposedly it held the maps Jazz wanted him to annotate.

Hopefully it wouldn't have any surprises. Starscream liked to wire data pads to explode if someone tried to hack them. But if Jazz had pulled a trick like that, the Autobots would just have to repair the damages, right? If they wanted him to be useful, anyway. 

The downside to staying behind the couch was not knowing exactly where Ironhide was. Skywarp could hear the big Autobot moving, but his wings weren't getting enough data to pinpoint his location. Would he try to pull the couch away from the wall? Skywarp hoped not.

_Bing, bing, bing._

Skywarp twitched at the unexpected sound. What was that?

_Bing, bingbing, bing bingbingbing, bing, bing, bing._ There it was again.

Music. That was what it was! Skywarp had hardly heard any music since Skyquake's deactivation, at least apart from overcharged singing. He peered over the edge of the couch despite himself.

All that was there was Ironhide, seated at the table, not even looking Skywarp's way. He held some sort of device on the table's surface. A small, boxy thing with prongs sticking off it. When Ironhide's digits moved over a prong, a note rang out.

Skywarp watched, riveted, as the music filled the room. How could such a terrifying Autobot make such delicate sounds? The furious warrior he'd seen across the battlefield didn't match this quiet music at all.

*

Ironhide huffed happily as he tucked his lamellophone back into subspace. Recharge was good; making music while his processor unwound was even better. His skills didn't compare at all to the long-dead musicians of Praxus or Crystal City, but that wasn't the point. The stress of Sudden Youngling Acquisition had faded, and he knew he'd be able to handle any shenanigans the kid might come up with.

A shuffle from behind the couch told him that the kid in question was still where he'd holed up when Jazz arrived. Three jours ago. Ironhide had hoped the music might tempt him out, but apparently not.

"Skywarp?" he called, moving to the dispenser. "Come get your energon."

Dead silence. No one else in these quarters, not at all. Ironhide half expected him to leap out of hiding with a cackle like Sideswipe used to. Instead, all he got was a flicker of a wing tip appearing and disappearing again.

He set the dispenser to filling the cubes and crossed over to the couch, looking down at his charge. "Come on, kid," he said. "You've gotta fuel up."

"Ngh," said Skywarp.

Luckily, Ironhide spoke scared-and-sulking fluently. "I don't care if your tanks are half full, ya still need ta refuel." Skywarp gave him a surprised look. Ironhide took the opportunity to hold out a hand to him. "Come on."

Skywarp didn't take the hand, but he did, slowly, come out of hiding. Ironhide glanced between the seeker's lanky frame and the narrow space he'd been crammed in. How the Pit had the kid managed to fit?

A question for another cycle. "Come on," he said again.

They refueled in silence. Ironhide couldn't think of anything to say that didn't risk scaring the kid off. Skywarp didn't seem inclined to talk, anyway. His optics kept moving, from the data pad Jazz had left behind, to Ironhide, to the locking panel on the exit door.

Finally, the silence grew awkward enough Ironhide had to break it. "Told ya Jazz isn't gonna hurt ya," he said. "Ya gonna look at those maps he gave ya?"

Skywarp shrugged, swirling the last dregs of energon in his cube.

"Ya don't have ta," Ironhide said.

Skywarp snorted. Ironhide was going to say more, but a comm interrupted him.

::Inferno to Ironhide. Will you need to comm in to the meeting?::

::Sorry, Inferno, lost track of time. I'll be there in five clicks.:: Ironhide wanted to give Skywarp a chance to examine the quarters without him around. Might help the kid settle down some. Everything important or dangerous was already locked away.

He stood. "I've got ta head ta my meeting now," he said. "Be back in a jour with Prowl and Thundercracker."

No response. Not even a wing twitch this time.

"Ya can use the console if ya like. Try not to turn the place upside down while I'm gone," he finished. He patted Skywarp's shoulder, earning a flinch for his efforts, before leaving.

Hopefully the quarters would still be standing when he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironhide's instrument is a Cybertronian kalimba. If you haven't heard one (from Earth) before, I recommend looking them up. They're gorgeous!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: music, mischief, and two reunions.

Skywarp hit the window again.

It remained as unbroken as it had the last nine times. Through it, he could see the distant silhouette of one of his hideouts. Mocking him.

He was bored. With Ironhide gone, the quarters had a distinct lack of the danger he'd been expecting from Autobot cells. They were just quarters. Quarters that, if Ironhide was to be believed, would shortly have Thundercracker and the traitor visiting them. He wasn't sure what to think about that.

Luckily, Skywarp was good at distracting himself when he had some materials to work with. If he couldn't break out, he could make trouble.

He poked at random options on the console until a video started playing. He didn't have the faintest clue what the squishy humans on the screen were saying, but the music playing with it was nice. He hummed along to it while looking for places to cause mischief.

He started with the shelf of Ironhide's data pads. Each was in a durable case, in varying shades of blue, gray, or black. Skywarp didn't know how the Autobot organized them, nor did he think it important. The shelf would look a lot nicer if the cases of similar colors were next to each other, though. If he arranged them right, he might even manage to make a gradient. Blue to gray to black, maybe.

Half a jour later, it looked even better than he'd pictured it. Ironhide would have trouble sorting it all back.

Skywarp glanced at Jazz's data pad. Its case was bright purple, and he didn't think he'd be able to remove it. Especially not if it was rigged to explode!

No chance of mixing it in with Ironhide's data pads and forgetting about it, then. He stuck it behind the energon dispenser instead. It was tempting to rewire the dispenser, but that just seemed juvenile.

Next, he looked over all the furniture that wasn't bolted down and scooted it three decimeters to the south. A mech as big as Ironhide wouldn't notice the difference until he bumped into something.

This was probably going to get him in trouble, Skywarp realized belatedly. He should hide.

*

"Dirge isn't doing well," Inferno said. "He perked up a little when Thrust visited, but not for long. He barely wants to fuel up, barely even looks around when I take him to the rec room. Ratchet couldn't find anything physically wrong, though."

"Have you tried getting him to see Smokescreen?" Prowl asked.

"We're going next cycle."

::Ramjet's okay,:: Hoist reported over comm. ::At least, he hasn't tried to attack me any more frequently than usual.::

::Thrust is still twitchy, but he doesn't shriek as often. He even fell into recharge while we were watching a film last cycle,:: Kup announced. He pinged an image to the rest of the caretakers. Ironhide smiled; it was rather cute. ::Of course, now he's being even more difficult to make up for it.::

"That's still more progress than I've gotten," Prowl confessed. He fidgeted with a stylus, but stilled himself when he noticed Ironhide watching. "Thundercracker still hasn't said a word."

::Didn't you say he was quiet when you knew him before?:: asked Kup.

"Not this quiet. He said 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' often enough, and even asked how I was doing once. Now he refuses to look at me when I talk. I asked him if he wanted to see Skywarp and only got a nod."

"Ya think it's personal?" Ironhide asked.

A sensor wing twitched. "Probably."

"He can't sulk forever," said Inferno. "What about you, Ironhide? How's Skywarp?"

"He spent three jours hidin' behind the couch after Jazz came ta visit, so I'm gonna guess not great," Ironhide huffed.

Prowl nodded. "Jazz has a reputation among Decepticons. I haven't had him visit my quarters since we moved Thundercracker in."

"Why not?" Inferno asked.

Prowl cocked an optic ridge at him. "Do you remember when I met Jazz?"

"Ah."

Ironhide glanced between them. "I don't get it."

"Jazz is, quite literally, the stuff of nightmares for many Decepticons," Prowl said. "I want to get Thundercracker more comfortable with Autobots in general before bringing him into the picture."

Ironhide sighed. "I see yer point. Probably should have waited a coupla cycles before lettin' him talk ta Skywarp, then."

::Why did Jazz want to talk to him, anyway?:: asked Kup.

"Wanted to see how he was doin' after all that fuss ta bring him in. He also said somethin' 'bout seeing if the kid could annotate some maps o' the ruins."

"Skywarp is more open to new mechs than his trine mates," Prowl said thoughtfully. "He may be a good starting point to introducing all the special ops mechs to the seekers in peaceful situations, after he's more settled."

"Bee tried to talk to Dirge in the rec room the other cycle," said Inferno. "Dirge didn't really respond, he's not really responding to much at all, but he didn't seem upset that he was there, either."

::Bee's a good age to try to befriend him,:: said Hoist. ::Plus, he's a lot less intimidating than the rest of the spec ops team.:: He paused. ::I'm sorry, Ramjet is trying to break the door down again.::

"Go take care of him," Prowl ordered. "We're done here."

*

Here is something Thundercracker wanted: to fly with his trine through the open sky, together and safe and free. Here is something he feared: that such flights would never happen again. That freedom and safety, if they existed at all, weren't for seekers like them.

He closed the door to Skywarp's room behind him softly. Maybe freedom and safety didn't exist, but the bond told him that Prowl hadn't been lying this time. Skywarp really was here, and he could see him and talk to him--as soon as he found him. 

The space behind the desk was empty when Thundercracker checked. He crouched beside the berth and peered into the narrow space under it. There was Skywarp, recharging.

Thundercracker tapped his helm. "Sky?" He pulled his arm out of range as Skywarp jolted and swiped out with his claws. "It's me."

Bleary optics lit and flickered into focus. "TC?"

"Come out of there," Thundercracker clicked in youngling Vosnian. "Let me get a look at you."

"You're not my creator," Skywarp grumbled, but he did as he was asked. The moment enough of him was in the open, Thundercracker pulled him into a crushing hug.

"Y'r not lookin' at me," Skywarp clicked. It was muffled, as his face was pressed into Thundercracker’s wing. 

Thundercracker made no move to get him more comfortable. If Skywarp could fall into recharge crammed under that berth, he could spend a few clicks in an awkwardly positioned hug. Besides, their fields were syncing. "You're okay? No one's hurt you?"

"Not yet. You?"

"Same."

"Was worried."

"Me too." Thundercracker didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but he was almost, almost, glad Skywarp had been caught. The Autobots might do any number of terrible things to him, but at least they weren't Shockwave, and so far they hadn't deactivated any captured Decepticons. Scraplets or starvation would.

"What happened?" Skywarp asked. "After I ran?"

"Got knocked out. Woke up in a cell." Skywarp didn't need to know about how the walls had always seemed to draw closer when he wasn't looking at them. How he'd spent cycles on end pacing in circles so he never had his back to any of them for long. Nope, he didn't need to know it. "They said Shockwave's dead. That true?"

Skywarp shook slightly, pulling away from Thundercracker. Thundercracker let him go. "He is," Skywarp muttered, avoiding his optics. "Saw it happen."

"Good."

Skywarp shuddered. "I didn't help him," he admitted. "Was just him an' some drones against three units of 'Bots, an' he wouldn't surrender, an' I sat there and watched."

"So?"

"He was an officer, an' a Decepticon! Shouldn' I have helped him?"

"No," Thundercracker snarled. The damper the Autobots had installed kept his engines far softer than they would have been otherwise. "You didn't owe him a thing. ‘Kay?"

"'Kay," Skywarp said, though he didn't sound convinced. "They said you were staying with the traitor," he continued, obviously trying to change the subject. "Why?"

"Not sure." Thundercracker decided to let him. "Two decacycles ago, they dragged me to the med bay and knocked me out. Not sure what they were doing. A little later, the Prime came and talked to me'n' Thrust's trine. Said he knew we were upgraded early. Seemed to think it was wrong. Then I got taken to Prowl's quarters."

“Weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Hate him.”

“Of course you do.”

Skywarp shifted, optics trailing to the door. “Is he out there?”

“Yeah.” Hang on. “Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't!”

*

“When Skywarp attacks me,” Prowl said, “I'd like you to let him.”

Ironhide frowned at him. “When?”

They were seated across from each other at his table. Prowl had arranged himself to be the one closest to Skywarp's door. “There's only a 68% chance he'll try to attack me this cycle, but he will certainly attack me now or another time we are in proximity.” He stopped himself from showing any emotions about it. “Please let him, unless there are civilians near. I'll take care of it.”

“Okay,” Ironhide said with a dubious shake of his helm. “Why?”

Prowl was saved from having to explain when a door opened and the youngling in question came running at him.

Skywarp was an experienced warrior, and dangerous even disarmed and unable to fly. He was also a youngling fighting more with emotion than strategy. 

Prowl’s experience as an enforcer went back longer than Skywarp had been alive. He was also a first kyu in Circuit Su. 

The fight didn't last long.

When it was over, Prowl was behind Skywarp, holding his wrists together with one hand, and the base of a sensitive wing with the other. Skywarp pulled away, but a gentle squeeze quickly stopped that. Prowl couldn't see his expression, but the youngling’s field was brittle and angry. Somewhere nearby, Thundercracker was watching, field frightened.

“Skywarp, I--” Prowl began.

“We looked for you! For cycles! Thought you were dead!” Skywarp snarled. “Disobeyed orders, tryin’ to find you!”

Prowl knew what the consequences for that would have been. 

“And then you went and joined them, you-- you-- you Autobot!” He spat the word like a curse. 

There was a pause; perhaps Skywarp expected Prowl to defend himself. When he didn't, the youngling deflated. 

“Thought you were our friend,” he finally mumbled, vents hitching.

Prowl sighed, releasing the youngling. “I am sorry, Skywarp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In karate, first kyu is the rank just below black belt.


	7. Chapter 7

::Ironhide to Sideswipe.::

Sideswipe sighed, relieved to have a distraction. Comms duty was dead boring. Rewind talking about Praxian dance styles was not helping. He almost missed the war. ::What’s up?::

Ironhide forwarded an image to him. ::You have competition.::

Frowning, Sideswipe opened the file. It didn’t look special, just a picture of a shelf of data pads. ::I don’t get it.::

::That’s not how my shelf looked when I left my quarters today.::

Sideswipe examined the picture again. Yeah, Ironhide never arranged things by color. No sense of aesthetics, that mech. 

But that meant... ::You left that crazy seeker—::

::His name is Skywarp.::

::—whatever, alone in your quarters?::

::It was a chance for him to calm down. Besides, I wanted to see what he would do.::

::You’re an idiot, sir.::

::An amused idiot.::

Sideswipe scowled at the monitor he was supposed to be watching. Ironhide was deliberately reminding him about similar tricks he’d pulled as a youngling, he just knew it. 

*

“I am sorry I left without warning,” Prowl was saying, crouched on the floor with his arms around Skywarp. Thundercracker watched from a safe distance. He tried not to twitch every time the other Autobot vented. 

“I am sorry I did not try to bring you with me,” Prowl continued. “I am sorry I did not realize you were so young and get you out of the war.”

There was something he was holding back. “But not sorry you left,” Thundercracker found himself saying.

Prowl glanced his way, surprise briefly crossing his faceplates. “No,” he admitted. “I am not.” 

“Why?” Skywarp asked softly. 

Prowl smiled sadly. “I joined the Decepticons because I could not support a Prime who would bomb a city of civilians, innocents, and sparklings.”

The other Autobot’s faceplates were surprised. Did he not know? Thundercracker forced himself to look away. It didn’t matter if the Autobots hadn’t known what their oh-so-glorious Prime was really like. It didn’t undo any of it. 

“I never regretted it, until Praxus fell. Praxus was full of innocents, too. I could not stay after I saw what Megaton was capable of.”

Thundercracker hadn’t been part of the destruction of Praxus. Few of the younger seekers had. He still wondered, sometimes, what Dreadwing had been thinking when he planned that attack for Megatron. If he’d looked out over the burning city afterwards and seen the ashes of Vos. 

“But, why join them?” Skywarp asked. 

“I joined them because I learned that the Matrix had chosen a decent mech.”

Skywarp stiffened. Thundercracker felt his surprise through the bond. 

“Then why didn’t you just say so?” his trine mate demanded. “That was the whole point of killin’ the old Prime!”

Prowl’s wings hiked up. “What do you mean?”

“When we were preppin’ for that mission, you said a good mech as Prime could change everythin’!” 

Which was a top-level military secret. Thundercracker resisted the urge to slam a hand over his optics. Since Prowl was involved, all the Autobots probably knew already, but it was the principle of the thing. Skywarp had somehow become worse at keeping his vocalizer shut since the war’s end. 

Prowl’s optics flickered. “What mission?”

“Killin’ the Prime,” Thundercracker said. Spilling the secret didn’t exactly make the war less lost, he supposed. 

...Why was Prowl pretending not to know about a mission he’d coordinated?

“I don’t…” Prowl’s optics flickered again. Abruptly they went dark. His frame slumped backwards like a deactivated drone. 

Skywarp and Thundercracker were too surprised to respond before he hit the floor, but the other Autobot leapt forward and caught him. 

“I’m comming Ratchet,” the Autobot said. 

*

_It was dark; the only lights were the stars above and the glow of their optics. The perfect time for an attack. “They have increased security on the Kalis base immensely,” Prowl said, projecting one of Skywarp's maps onto the roof they stood on. “Sentinel Prime has not been seen since the battle of Tarn. I am 76% certain he is here, and recovering from a serious injury. Jazz was spotted a continent away, so he is less well protected than usual. We will not get a better chance than this.”_

_“How do we get to him, then?” asked Skywarp._

_“You and Starscream will take this route around the base while the grounder units attack. Focus your fire on this wall, and these sensor clusters.” Prowl highlighted the relevant areas on the map. “Make it look like an ordinary attack. As far as everyone but us and Commander Dreadwing are concerned, it is one.”_

_Starscream and Skywarp nodded._

_“Then Thundercracker,” Prowl continued, “you will follow behind them, quietly. With the security sensors shot, they will not know you are there until it is too late. Use your sonics and break through the wall, here where it will already be damaged. That should get you into the med bay, where the Prime will be. Skywarp will join you. You get in, kill the Prime, and get out. Starscream will keep flying around the base, distracting the Autobots. I will be directing the fight from here.” He pointed to a building just outside the base._

_Thundercracker nodded. If he was nervous, his field was too controlled to show it._

_If Prowl was nervous, he hadn’t let himself realize it. “Does everyone understand their roles?”_

_A chorus of “yessir”s followed Prowl's question._

_Prowl allowed himself a smile. “Good. Everyone fuel up. Especially you, Skywarp. The attack begins in one jour.”_

_This cycle, the younglings of Vos would finally receive justice._

_Thundercracker and Starscream obeyed Prowl's instructions quickly, but Skywarp hesitated._

_“Is something wrong?” Prowl asked him._

_“Will it change anythin’? Killin’ the Prime?”_

_Prowl restrained himself from correcting the seeker’s grammar, focusing on the question. He’d long since realized getting Skywarp to speak properly was a lost cause. “If a decent mech inherits the Matrix of Leadership, it could change everything,” he answered slowly._

_“So we should grab it after?”_

_“No,” Prowl said. “Records suggest the Matrix will fight if a mech it has not chosen picks it up. We will simply have to hope it chooses well. Even if it does not, removing Sentinel will at least begin to balance the scales of justice.”_

_“How?”_

_Honestly, some cycles it was like working with a youngling. There were always questions. “The government as it stands now would never punish Sentinel for his crimes,” he answered. “I tried, when I was an enforcer, but the corruption runs too deeply. Removing the corruption, even by deadly force, is the first step to making a functioning justice system. That starts with the Prime.”_

_Skywarp nodded. Prowl wondered how much of it he actually understood. He still was not certain how much of Skywarp’s apparent lack of intelligence was an act, how much stemmed from a poor education, and how much was the result of being very intelligent in unconventional ways._

_A question to ponder at another time. “You should fuel up,” he reminded the seeker._

_“Right,” Skywarp said. He pulled something out of his subspace. “Could you watch this for me?”_

_“Certainly,” Prowl said, accepting the item. He examined it as Skywarp walked away._

_A drawing pad. How strange. He would have to inquire about its significance after the Prime was deactivated._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which questions are answered.

“He should have come out of it on his own by now,” Ratchet said, frowning. Prowl was laid out on Ironhide’s couch, limp as he had been when he first collapsed. 

“Should I get Jazz?” Ironhide asked. 

“I’ll see if I can make him reboot first.”

Skywarp watched them from behind Thundercracker’s wing on the far side of the room, crammed into a corner by the table. The medic unwound a data cable from his wrist and jacked in to a port on Prowl’s neck. 

“Frag,” was all he said. 

“Now do I get Jazz?” Ironhide asked. 

“Yes. Get First Aid, too. Have him bring a stretcher.”

Despite his grievances, Skywarp felt a stab of worry. “Since when does Prowl crash?” he clicked in youngling Vosnian. 

“Don’t care,” Thundercracker growled. 

Skywarp pressed on. “He glitched out a click that time with the cyber-viper an’ glow paint, remember? But I don’t think I’ve seen him crash. But they’re actin’ like this normal.”

“Still don’t care.”

Thundercracker did care, of course. Skywarp could feel it in his spark and in his EM field. He just really didn’t want to. 

Skywarp looked around his trine mate’s wing again, craning his neck. The medic still leaned over Prowl, obscuring his view. Ironhide stood by the door, tapping a pede against the floor. Waiting for Jazz and First Aid, probably. 

He pushed against his trine mate’s back. “Wanna see.” 

Thundercracker didn’t move. 

“They’re not gonna do anythin’. Too worried ‘bout Prowl.”

“Autobots,” said Thundercracker in a clipped tone. “Dangerous.” 

The door opened; Ironhide stepped aside to let a short black-and-white mech in. Jazz didn’t wear the confident grin he’d had earlier in the cycle. He very nearly ran over to Prowl, pulling a data cable from his wrist as he did so. 

“Primus, that’s a mess,” he said when he’d jacked in. “What happened?”

“He was talking ta the kids and then collapsed,” Ironhide said. 

Skywarp ducked behind Thundercracker when the hacker looked towards them. “Really? What were they talking about?”

“Didn’t really understand the context. He’d been apologizing, and then the kids mentioned killing the old Prime. That’s when he collapsed.” 

“Interestin’.” Skywarp peeked back over Thundercracker’s wing. Jazz’s attention had returned to Prowl. 

“The source of the crash isn’t a virus,” Ratchet said, scowling. “It’s not even his battle computer acting up.”

“I’m checkin’ the memory files,” Jazz said. “I’ve got an idea, but I don’t like it.”

Skywarp shivered. He leaned against Thundercracker. 

“Want me to distract you?” his trine mate asked. “I could tell a Crosswind story.”

“Yes, please.”

*

_ Prowl spent decacycles putting the program together as he traveled away from the fighting. Tagging the memories it would target, reviewing the encryption it would bury them under.  _

_ He hoped he would not have to use it, but he had to be prepared. A lone, damaged Decepticon deserter with no allies would be picked up by the Autobots sooner or later, if not by the Cons. The Neutrals had all evacuated the continent.  _

_ He’d have to approach one group or the other eventually, if only for fuel and medical attention. The Decepticons would kill him. The Autobots...might not, if the rumors about the new Prime were correct. As long as their more dangerous members didn’t find out what he’d helped do to their former leader.  _

_ Working on the program helped to distract him from the grief.  _

_ Praxus was gone. The towers, the crystal gardens. The language and songs. His mentor. His creators. His siblings. His sister’s sparkling— _

_ And he’d been part of the faction that did all that.  _

_ They were fighting for justice. Avenging the deaths of innocents. How could Megatron have done this? How could Dreadwing and Soundwave? Had Starscream and the others known about it? They couldn’t have. They’d have warned him. Right? _

_ He was running out of energon, and the wounds to his wings were acting up, when he came across a small, still-smoking battlefield. He examined the limp frames. All Decepticon. They’d likely been ambushed. _

_ “Hands up, Con.” _

_ Prowl turned at the voice, lifting his hands into the air. A handful of bulky Autobots, all bigger and better armed than he, stood behind him.  _

_ He should have kept his guard up.  _

_ He glanced over the Autobots’ faceplates, comparing them to the data he had. The red one was called Inferno. He had a decent reputation. Another was called Hound. His files noted an affinity for holograms—probably why Prowl had not seen them. With most of his wing sensors offline, no wonder he had not realized they were there.  _

_ “On your knees,” Inferno ordered.  _

_ Slowly, very aware of the weapons aimed his way, he got to his knees and placed his hands behind his helm. “My name is Prowl,” he said as Hound approached him with stasis cuffs. Volunteering the information might grant him some leniency. “I am—I was—a Decepticon tactician.”  _

_ “Uh-huh,” said Inferno. He turned to one of the Bots Prowl could not identify. “Comm Jazz. Tell him we’ve got another live one.” _

_ Prowl stiffened. Sentinel’s shadow was here? If Jazz was commanding this group, Prowl would be unable to avoid being hacked. This had the potential to be very bad for him. It would paint targets on his team, too.  _

_ Quickly, silently praying to Primus that it would work, he activated the program.  _

_ And promptly crashed.  _

*

Prowl awoke to the beeping of monitors and a processor ache the size of Jupiter. He lit his optics carefully and slowly glanced around. 

White walls. Bright lights. Medical berths. Why was he in med bay?

The seekers!

He sat up, but immediately regretted it. Cables jacked into his neck and shoulders pulled at him. The processor ache spiked sharply, making him wrap his arms around his helm. He groaned. 

“You’re an idiot,” Ratchet announced, coming up from behind him. 

“What...makes you say that?” Prowl asked, only barely managing not to mumble it. 

Ratchet put a handheld scanner against his helm, pushing him to lie back down. “Memory modification is a risky venture at the best of times, much less by yourself in a state of panic. You’re lucky your processor didn’t melt!”

Prowl blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“What?”

Ratchet sighed. “The good news is, we repaired most of the damage. The suppressed memories should be reintegrating with the rest of your processor soon.”

“The bad news is, I am an idiot?” Prowl guessed. 

“Exactly.”

“Where is Thundercracker?” 

“With Ironhide and Skywarp. You were visiting them when you crashed.”

Prowl vaguely recalled Skywarp charging at him. He attempted to sit up again, despite the pain in his helm. Ratchet pushed him back down. “Need to apologize.”

“You already did. Hold still.”

“What memories did I supposedly modify?”

“You’ll remember in the next few cycles.” Ratchet shone a light at his optics. Prowl lifted a hand to block it, which was swatted away. 

What else did he need to know? “How long do you intend to keep me here?”

“Until you remember.”

Prowl frowned. “That is not your usual procedure for a crash.” 

Ratchet huffed. “You nearly died, Prowl. This wasn’t some extra-long glitch-out.” 

“How long was I out?” he asked. How much work had he missed?

“Eight cycles. Try to get up again and I’ll strap you down. And no, you can’t have a data pad.”

Frag. Ratchet knew him too well. “Who is covering my duties?”

“Optimus and Ultra Magnus. Nothing has burned down, no fights have occurred, and we haven’t even had one explosion since you crashed. Unless Wheeljack is waiting to come clean about one, at least. Everything’s fine.”

“Can I—“

“You can recharge and you can blink. That’s about it, until I’m sure you’re out of danger.”

“What about painkillers?” He wouldn’t normally ask, but this processor ache was worse than any he’d had before. 

“You’re on painkillers.” 

Well, that was unfortunate. “What about visitors?”

Ratchet shook his helm. “Not till next cycle.”

“Could you move me next to Starscream at least?” The seeker shouldn’t wake up alone, Prowl thought. Not after all that time alone when they’d all assumed he was dead. 

Ratchet looked like the answer would be another no, but then he paused. “That sounds doable. Give me a breem.”

Soon Prowl’s berth was wheeled into the secure wing (“No, you may not walk there—“) and parked a few meters away from Starscream’s. Ratchet left him there after one last scan, muttering about having all the ‘problem patients’ in one place. 

Prowl vented. He looked at Starscream. He looked at the ceiling. He counted the ceiling tiles. 

It was going to be a long cycle. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl angsts.

“Stop pacin’,” Thundercracker clicked. “Won’t help anythin’.” 

“Don’t know what else to do,” Skywarp replied. “Can’t sit still.” He’d already pranked Ironhide again, packing cleanser into the wash racks faucets. The mech had still been covered in bubbles when he came out of the racks! It was funny, and to his surprise the Autobot hadn’t thrashed him for it, but he probably shouldn’t try anything else for a few more cycles. 

Boredom was even worse now that he didn’t have to follow Autobot patrols or watch out for Shockwave’s traps or do anything remotely useful. Skywarp had never regretted leaving his drawing pad on the Nemesis more. 

“Work on the maps?” Thundercracker suggested. 

Skywarp glanced at the purple data pad on his desk. Ironhide kept giving it back whenever he hid it. The Autobot certainly didn’t handle it like it was likely to explode. “Thought ya didn’t want me helping them.”

“Want ya to calm down,” Thundercracker said. 

“Don’t like writing.”

“Who says ya have to annotate the maps in Cy-Stan?”

Skywarp grinned. 

He had only just begun the crude caricatures that would take the place of actually useful notes on the map when Ironhide knocked on his berthroom door. “Kids? Can I come in?”

Skywarp glanced at Thundercracker, who shrugged. “Okay,” he called, but didn’t get up to let the mech in. Had Ironhide decided to thrash him for the bubbles after all?

But the Autobot was smiling when he came in. “Good news, kids. Prowl woke up last cycle, and is doing well. Ratchet says we can visit him and Starscream in a few jours.” 

*

::Prowl to Optimus Prime,:: Prowl commed. He could not believe he had not thought of this last cycle. He blamed the processor ache that was finally shrinking to something manageable. 

::No, Prowl.::

::You do not even know what I am calling about.:: 

::I am not sending you work over the comms. We have everything taken care of. You rest.:: Optimus disconnected. 

Prowl glared at the ceiling. There went that distraction.

He’d never been good at keeping still, unless there was something he could focus his processor on. Luckily, being a tactician and second in command of an army usually meant there was. He’d have been dreadful at guard duty.

The last time he’d felt this tense mixture of bored and useless, Skywarp was in the med bay after the mission to—

He sat up, clutching his helm. Primus beneath. Skywarp couldn’t have been more than seventy vorns back then. Thundercracker, maybe one hundred. He’d sent sparklings out to—to kill—

He glitched out. 

*

“All right, you can talk to him,” Ratchet agreed. “Just don’t get too heavy. We don’t want to overload his emotional cortex.”  He led Jazz into the secure wing, just in time to see Prowl—sitting up  _ again _ —collapse back onto the med berth. 

“Might be too late for that,” Jazz noted. 

Ratchet hastily looked over the monitors, then relaxed. “Just a glitch this time. He’ll wake in a few clicks.” 

“I’ll wait,” Jazz said, leaning against Starscream’s berth. 

He pulled a data pad out of subspace when Ratchet left. Skywarp wouldn’t know it, but the data pad he’d given him was already sending Jazz the notes the seeker added to his maps. 

So far the notes consisted entirely of small caricatures. A sparkeater, drawn over the site of the last battle. A scraplet, over the nest Jazz knew about, and several more in places he didn’t. For some reason, the kid had drawn a crude Earth scorpion in the region Jazz suspected the old Decepticon labs were. A single yellow optic hovered next to it. Fallen Earth trees lay next to their trunks in several places, and Jazz was dying to know what that meant. 

This was definitely not how the maps Skywarp made for Megatron had been annotated, but it was entertaining. As Jazz watched, another scraplet appeared. That one was close to the base—he’d have to send some mechs out to look it over. 

Prowl’s systems hummed and a sensor wing twitched. Jazz stowed the data pad away and waited while Prowl’s optics flickered on.

“Welcome back,” Jazz said with a smile, leaning in where Prowl could see him. 

Prowl said something that was probably quite rude in Praxian. 

“What triggered it that time? Ya suddenly remember you’re the secret creation of Onyx Prime or somethin’?”

More rude Praxian. Jazz grinned; he could never get Prowl to curse when the mech was properly awake. 

“For future reference, please never do that again,” he continued once Prowl was finished cursing. 

Prowl blinked at him. “Do what?”

“Modify your memories. And if ya could avoid almost dyin’ again, that would be good too.”

His friend’s optics dimmed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“How much have you remembered?” Jazz asked. 

“Several pieces. I think I know what I was trying to hide, at least.” 

“It’ll come back,” Jazz assured him. “Ratch and I broke the encryptions ya’d set on all the hidden files, they just have ta reintegrate with the rest of ya processor.”

Prowl’s field flared. “You have seen the missing memories?”

“Yep.”

“And,” Prowl paused. “You are not angry?”

“‘Course not.” Jazz retracted his visor, staring Prowl in the optics. “Prowler, ya got Sentinel Prime killed. Optimus might disagree with me, but I think that deserves congratulations.”

Prowl looked away. “But he was—“

“My mentor, yeah.” Jazz huffed. “He got me outta the gangs in Polyhex, saved my life, taught me ta use my skills for good. His idea of good, anyway. And then after he died I discovered he’d been lyin’ ta me every cycle I knew him.”

Prowl nodded. 

“I mighta been angry with ya ‘bout it back when we first met, but now? If he were still alive I’d kill him myself,” he finished, reengaging his visor. 

Optimus would have looked sadly at Jazz for saying such a thing. Prowl let the faintest smile touch his faceplates before his expression fell again. “I sent sparklings out into battle. I sent sparklings to assassinate someone,” he said, gazing at the ceiling. 

“Ya didn’t know.”

“I should have.”

“Maybe. I think they worked hard to stop ya from knowin’, though.”

“Skywarp was seventy vorns at most back then. He spent a decacycle in med bay after killing Sentinel, did you know that?”

Jazz had not. But he himself had also only been sixty vorns old the first time he had to fight for his life, so he probably wasn’t the best mech for Prowl to talk to about it. 

He’d get Smokey to look in on him later. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: angst.

There was already a mech beside Prowl’s berth when Skywarp and Thundercracker were escorted in. A gray Praxian, Autobot brand gleaming proudly. It took Thundercracker a few clicks to identify him as that sniper with scary accurate aim. 

Apparently, when not shooting at seekers, the mech was a talker. The seekers arrived in time to hear “...and it’s not like they were doing anything wrong, really, so I let them hide in my quarters for a jour.”

“Bluestreak,” sighed Prowl, shaking his helm. It was quite a feat, given the number of cables attached to his frame. He shouldn’t have been able to move at all.

“They weren’t! Even Ultra Magnus was laughing about it! And Roddy spent the time doodling on my walls, so there’s some really cool designs around the room now. I have files…” But then the Autobot finally noticed the Decepticons and Ironhide behind him, optics widening. 

Thundercracker started to question his initial identification. No sniper as deadly as the one he remembered could be so oblivious, especially not with sensor wings. Unless it was an act?

“You must be Thundercracker,” the maybe-sniper said. “And Skywarp! Prowl’s told me so much about you!” His field reached out in cheery welcome. 

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge, glancing between the strange mech and Prowl. 

Skywarp was more skittish, physically leaping back from the strange Autobot and ducking behind Thundercracker’s wing for the eighteenth time since their reunion. He saw Ironhide frown at the behavior, mirroring his own thoughts. 

But the new Autobot didn’t give him time to worry, as he was suddenly grabbing Thundercracker’s hand and shaking it up and down in some sort of greeting ritual. “Did you really sneak a glowing circuit viper into Commander Dreadwing’s berth? And fly through a barricade with half your thrusters offline? What was flying over Tiger Pax like?” 

Thundercracker very carefully did not react to the sudden contact and questions, even as Skywarp bolted for Starscream’s berth and ducked behind it. But his control over his field wasn’t what it had once been, and his discomfort showed. 

“Bluestreak,” Ironhide interrupted. “Perhaps you can introduce yourself next cycle? The kids are here to see Prowl and Starscream.” 

“Right, sorry,” this Bluestreak said, letting Thundercracker go. “Bye, Prowl! Don’t worry, I’ll keep anyone from messing with your quarters! Bye, Warp! Bye TC!” 

And then, with a quick hug from Ironhide, he was mercifully gone. 

Prowl smiled awkwardly at his new visitors. “Hello, Thundercracker. Skywarp? You can come out now, he’s left.” 

Skywarp mumbled something unintelligible, even to Thundercracker, and stayed right where he was. 

Prowl sighed, but didn’t push it. “I’m sure you have questions,” he said instead, unnervingly blue optics focused on Thundercracker. They were dimmer than they ought to be. 

Thundercracker avoided optic contact. He was still furious with the mech, no matter how worried he couldn’t help being. 

“Bluestreak is eighty or so vorns older than you,” Prowl continued as if he’d been asked. “He adopted me shortly after the Autobots captured me.”

Ironhide chuckled. “I thought you adopted him.”

“I said what I said.” 

Prowl’s dry humor was achingly familiar, and Thundercracker had to fight to keep himself from smiling at it. 

“Before or after ya made yourself forget?” Skywarp asked. Thundercracker looked back at him; his trine mate was just far enough out of hiding to play with Starscream’s limp hand. Their trine leader looked okay, as far as comatose went.

“After,” Prowl said. “All he knows about Sentinel is that he was Prime and I disliked him. He’s a good mech, though, he won’t be angry with you if he learns.” 

“Why’d ya do it?” Thundercracker asked this time. “Why make yourself forget?”

“To avoid execution when I was captured.” It was strange how the mech could look so dignified, even when obviously weakened. “And to keep you three out of Jazz’s target sights, I believe.”

*

_ Bluestreak crouched behind the storage crates for the longest time, until the sounds of the twins faded back into dusty silence.  _

_ It wasn’t that he thought the older younglings were bad, exactly. They were just loud, and strange, and new, like everything and everyone else in this base. And since he’d been assigned to stay in Ironhide’s quarters with them, he never got a moment’s quiet to think. _

_ Not that thinking did much good. His processor always went back to that horrible cycle, his creator’s crushed frame, the crashes and explosions— _

_ He got up. Headed out of the storage room. Moving was good. Moving distracted him. Maybe he’d watch the soldiers at their drills, or in the shooting range.  _

_ But as he turned a hallway, he saw a Praxian shape. They were walking away, so he couldn’t quite make out all the details, but the Praxian sensor wings were unmistakable.  _

_ There were no Praxians on this base, apart from tiny Bumblebee. The other survivors were old enough to join the Autobots and fight. So what was a Praxian doing here? _

_ And why were they in stasis cuffs? _

_ Bluestreak followed the strange Praxian and their guards down to the holding cells in the lower basement. His small frame served him well; the guards were used to looking for the twins, but Bluestreak was a couple upgrades behind them, and Praxian to boot. None of the Autobots looked far enough down to spot him.  _

_ He waited when the guards pushed the Praxian into one of the cells, taking note of the cell’s location. Then he backed out into the hallway, looking for a vent cover.  _

_ Sideswipe had taught him how to get into and navigate the air ducts last decacycle, when he wanted help with a prank. He had to seal his own vents to keep the fumes out, but his temperature was fine and he could go nearly a jour without fresh air.  _

_ It was how he’d survived being buried in the rubble.  _

_ No, he didn’t need to think about that. Couldn’t panic in the tight confines of the duct he climbed through. There was a strange Praxian to investigate.  _

_ Telling himself not to panic did very little to prevent panic.  _

_ By the time he got to the Praxian’s cell, his core temperature was way too high and he kicked the vent out of his way in a hurry. That wasn’t the plan, but he wasn’t staying in there another click! _

_ He dropped to the floor of the cell, vents heaving. He was not doing that again. He was lucky it hadn’t happened in front of Sideswipe earlier.  _

_ “Little one?” asked a voice. Bluestreak looked up.  _

_ The strange Praxian sat cross-legged in a corner of the cell, blinking at him. Fresh weld marks crossed his wings, and his black and white paint was scratched and scuffed. His arms were still cuffed behind his back.  _

_ The most concerning details were these: His optics were vivid red. On his shoulder was a purple Decepticon brand.  _

_ Bluestreak backed up towards the vent, but it was too high for him to climb back up easily. Not without turning his back on the Decepticon. And he didn’t really want to go back to that tight dark space.  _

_ He was on the verge of panicking  _ again _ like a  _ sparkling _ when the Decepticon’s field brushed against his.  _

_ It was a calm field, smooth, with hints of gentle curiosity and concern. If he was confused about the youngling that had suddenly appeared in his cell, he didn’t show it.  _

_ “ _ Are you all right? _ ” the Decepticon asked. In Praxian.  _

_ “ _ Fine,” _ Bluestreak said shortly, forcing his posture to relax. His optics ran back over the weld marks on the Decepticon’s wings. “ _ Are you?” __

_ The Praxian Decepticon almost smiled. “ _ I am well enough, _ ” he said. As if he weren’t in a cell in an Autobot base. “ _ Are there many Praxians here?”

_ Bluestreak shook his helm. “ _ Just me. And Bumblebee, but he’s a baby. Everyone else was old enough to join the fight, they’re all out on missions or other bases. I never see them.”  _ The thought occurred that maybe he shouldn’t be saying this to a Decepticon. But now that he looked at him, this Decepticon didn’t act much like one. “ _ I’m Bluestreak. Who are you?”

“I am Prowl,”  _ the Decepticon said.  _

_ “ _ That’s a cool name. I wouldn’t want to mess with someone named Prowl. Sideswipe would, though. He and Sunstreaker mess with everyone. Ironhide says it’s because they’re glitched, but I think he’s joking.”

_ Prowl hummed. “ _ Why is that?” 

“He’s always smiling when he says it. Ironhide’s their guardian. Mine too, I guess, unless they find someone else with the time for younglings. He’s okay. Can’t speak Praxian, though.”

_ As he spoke, the worries and memories that had pushed at the edges of Bluestreak’s thoughts since the fall of Praxus faded. He told Prowl about Sideswipe’s pranks and Sunstreaker’s drawings, about watching the soldiers in the shooting range and hoping to try it out once he was big enough to fire a weapon. He even spoke, a little, about his life before the bombs, the games he would play with his siblings.  _

_ Prowl was the perfect listener. When the Autobots opened the cell, Bluestreak was surprised to find that more than a jour had passed, and that at some point he’d started leaning against Prowl’s side like he would with his creator or older siblings.  _

_ Ironhide was with the Autobots. “Bluestreak,” he said, “come here.”  _

_ Bluestreak sighed, but obeyed the big Autobot, who scooped him up and set him on his shoulders. “Can I see you again?” he asked Prowl. In Cy-Stan, for the Autobots’ benefit.  _

_ “I don’t know,” Prowl said, optics on the big, angry-looking Autobots.  _

_ Ironhide took Bluestreak out of the cell, closing the door behind them. “Will he be okay?” Bluestreak asked.  _

_ “Don’t worry about it,” Ironhide huffed.  _

_ But Bluestreak did worry. Next time he had a chance, he decided, he was coming straight back here and looking for Prowl. He didn’t care how many ducts he had to climb through.  _

_ * _

Ironhide left his charges talking quietly with Prowl in the secure wing of the med bay. Neither looked likely to cause trouble, and Prowl would comm if they changed their minds. He had time to talk to his other younglings, finally. They’d been ignoring his invitations to visit him these past few cycles. 

He rapped quietly at the door to their quarters. Sideswipe let him in, a smear of blue on one cheek. Sunstreaker had been throwing paintbrushes again, clearly. Not a great mood to talk to him in. 

“Hey, Hide,” Sideswipe said. 

“Hey kiddo. Doin’ all right?” 

Sideswipe shrugged, letting him in. “Fine. Worried ‘bout you.” 

“You don’t need to,” Ironhide promised. He’d have sat on their small couch, but Sunstreaker had covered half of it with paint containers. His current project sat on his lap, an abstract mess of colors. As Ironhide watched, he added a series of blade-like marks in an angry red. 

Definitely not a good mood for talking to. Ironhide tried anyway. “Hey Sunstreaker. You okay?” 

Sunstreaker didn’t look up. “Grmph.”

Ironhide interpreted that as ‘I’m angry and don’t want to talk about it.’ “It’s not about the seekers, is it?”

“Rrrrm.”

Ironhide took that as a yes, and a glance at Sideswipe showed the other twin was similarly unhappy. “Ya know I’m not replacin’ ya with Skywarp, right?” he asked, taking a chair. “No more than when we had Blue stayin’ with us for a while. Ya can always come ta me for help or advice, or even just ta visit. Always.” 

“But  _ they’ll _ be there,” Sideswipe groused, slumping onto the arm of the couch. 

“Not always. Thundercracker’ll be goin’ back ta Prowl’s place soon enough, and Skywarp won’t be in my quarters all the time. He’s usually holed up in his room anyway, poor kid. Scared of me, just like you were.”

Sideswipe deflated, but Sunstreaker growled again, and this time it was harder to interpret. The paintbrush between his digits snapped suddenly, spraying pigment across his plating. Sideswipe pulled a fresh one from subspace and handed it to him. 

Either Ironhide’s reassurance hadn’t been enough...or there was something else bothering the young mech. Ironhide came closer, trying to brush Sunstreaker’s field with his own, but it was pulled in tight. He peered at the painting instead. “Looks good. What’s it called?” 

“Jet Judo,” Sunstreaker growled. 

Oh. Ironhide could see it now, the sky color behind the vaguely seeker-like shapes. “What’s got ya so angry about jet judo?” he asked softly. 

And Sunstreaker exploded. “They were younglings! We hurt them, and they were younglings!” 

Paint tubes went flying. The new brush snapped. Sunstreaker strode to Ironhide’s vacated chair and kicked it into the wall. A distant part of Ironhide noted that, as always, Sunny’s painting was just fine, clutched to his side while his free arm gestured wildly. 

“We ran from Kaon cuz we didn’t wanna be made to fight. We joined you guys cuz you protected younglings. And all this time, we were twisting their wings and making them crash and smashing their windows to bits and  _ laughing _ about it.” 

Sideswipe looked stunned. “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he said softly, but Ironhide’s main focus was on Sunstreaker. 

“Ya were protectin’ yer team,” he reminded him. “Ya didn’t know they hadn’t chosen ta fight.” 

“We should have! Instead we couldn’t see past their frame type, just like—“

Ironhide caught Sunstreaker in a hug. “No,” he said. “You’re nothin’ like yer creators, ya hear me? They left ya without a second thought when they realized ya were warbuilds. You’re thinking about what ya’ve done. Ya care. That’s the difference.” He glanced at Sideswipe. “That goes for you, too.” 

Holding Sunny now, he could feel his field clearly. The emotions flashed through it faster than meteorites: Rage. Regret. And an old, old hurt, that all the affection Ironhide possessed had never quite managed to mend. 

“Ya can’t undo the past,” Ironhide said as Sunstreaker started to shake. “Ya can only try to make up for it in some ways now. Meet with Skywarp and Thundercracker. Apologize. See what happens.”

“What about the seekers we killed?” Sunny asked, a keen breaking into his voice. 

For that, Ironhide didn’t have an answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Bluestreak flashback! #giveEVERYONEtragedies2k19
> 
> Was I planning to make Sunstreaker angry at himself? No. But I think it works.   
> When I learned a child I cared about had been abused, I spent a while throwing things and ranting at my roommate. And then pacing and thinking angry thoughts, for hours at a time. Feeling disgusted with myself for not realizing what had been happening.   
> As a survivor of abuse himself, I can’t imagine Sunstreaker realizing he hurt kids and taking it anything but poorly.   
> But he has Ironhide to help him work through it, and Sideswipe and the rest of the Autobots. He’ll be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans occur.

Ratchet looked the spec ops team over with a critical optic, and fought the urge to curse. He’d thought with the war over, he wouldn’t have to worry about repairs like this anymore. 

Bumblebee’s armor looked like it had been chewed on. Mirage had several plates of armor missing altogether, as did Hound, Punch, and Young Smokescreen.

Jazz was the worst off, naturally, with his visor cracked and leg mangled. His left arm looked like it would fall off if someone looked at it wrong. He grinned at Ratchet anyway, the little maniac. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” the medic sighed, helping Jazz onto a med berth. First Aid and Jolt hurried forward to take care of the others. 

“We went scraplet hunting!” Young Smokescreen said, sounding entirely too excited about it.

“Accidentally,” Bumblebee corrected. “We went scraplet hunting, accidentally.”

“How do you  _ accidentally _ go scraplet hunting?!”

“By walking into a large abandoned building covered in tooth marks and shouting, evidently,” Mirage groused while Jolt synced with him. He at least looked as aggravated at Jazz as Ratchet was. 

“ _ Why? _ ” 

“Training exercise,” Jazz said. He shrugged, and the bit of scraplet tooth Ratchet was trying to extract from a sensitive wiring cluster in his shoulder dug in deeper. “We needed to clear out that sector anyway, and check if Skywarp’s map annotations were trustworthy. This way we got to have some fun with it.”

“Fun.”

“It was fun,” Young Smokescreen insisted. Why Jazz had recruited the kid when the war was over, Ratchet didn’t have a clue. Had he found him on one of those incoming Neutral ships?

He finished getting the tooth out and looked the arm over again. “I’m going to have to replace most of these parts,” he informed Jazz. “And then I’ll need to supervise you using them. Lucky you, we have several dozen circuit boards that need wiring, so your fine motor skills will be quite  _ thoroughly _ tested.”

Jazz looked suitably worried. Ratchet smiled. 

*

Thundercracker did not like talking to most mechs. He’d never quite grasped speaking Cy-Stan, so he was constantly missing small but important details. Conversations were painfully awkward. It was hard enough concealing his age without mechs wondering about his language skills. 

Part of the reason he’d liked working with Prowl, back in the early vorns of the war, was that the mech spoke slowly and clearly, so Thundercracker actually had a chance of understanding him properly. 

Not that he wanted to talk to him now. But Ironhide had left, and Skywarp was back in hiding, and Thundercracker didn’t want to think too much about being in the med bay. Talking would at least distract him. 

Besides, Prowl claimed he’d hidden those memories in part to protect them. Despite himself, Thundercracker believed him. He’d never known the Praxian to lie about anything but his own health.

“You okay?” he asked softly. 

Prowl smiled. It was slight, but still wider than Thundercracker had ever seen him do so. He hadn’t known his mouth plates moved that far. “I am recovering well,” he said. “Ratchet and his team are quite good at what they do.”

Prowl had also once claimed to be ‘mildly damaged’ while missing half a sensor wing. Thundercracker’s doubt crept into his field, brushing against Prowl’s. 

“I really am fine,” the Praxian insisted. 

There was far too much medical equipment plugged in to Prowl’s frame for the mech to be ‘fine’. Thundercracker adopted one of Starscream’s more sarcastic facial expressions at the claim, along with a dismissive wing flick. 

Prowl  _ laughed. _

Was the world ending? The war was lost, Megatron was dead, the Autobots knew his age, and  _ Prowl knew how to laugh _ . 

*

Skywarp sidled away from Starscream’s berth, away from the sounds of Prowl and Thundercracker talking. 

He didn’t think Ratchet had locked the door to this wing after letting them in. Bluestreak had left without putting in a code. So had Ironhide. Maybe they thought he’d be too worried about Prowl and Starscream to make trouble. 

But the patients were fine, and Skywarp wanted his creator’s plating back. 

The door only had a simple latch keeping it closed, and its hinges were well maintained. He got into the bigger room silently, dropping into a crouch behind one of the berths. 

Ratchet and two other medics were there, but distracted. Skywarp caught a glimpse of the Autobot Bumblebee’s plating and winced. Scraplets. Maybe he should give Jazz back his data pad, so he’d know where the nests were and know to avoid them. Maybe he should make the effort to actually write his notes instead of drawing them. That sounded dangerously like helping, though, so maybe not. 

Thundercracker sent confusion through the bond. He must have noticed Skywarp was gone. Skywarp pushed reassurance back, heading towards the back of the med bay. That was where offices usually went, right? His creator’s plating would be in there somewhere. He’d look until someone realized he’d snuck off and used those stasis generators. 

His wing hinges prickled like someone was watching him. He glanced back. Just three medics and five chewed-up Autobots, all busy repairing or being repaired. 

There were three doors back here, so he opened the first one. Shelves of medical equipment and a bulky parts fabricator met his optics. The fabricator hummed, working on something. Maybe one of those new sensors Starscream would need. 

It probably wasn’t here. Skywarp scanned the shelves just in case, but no one had stuck a slightly rusty piece of wing in between the shiny spools of wiring. 

The second door concealed a small table and some chairs. Some sort of secret medic rec room? Pieces of some kind of game were scattered across the table, but his creator’s plating wasn’t there either. 

That left the last door. Skywarp reached for it—

“Now what do you think you are doing?”

He jumped at the voice, twisting to look behind him. He hadn’t sensed any movement nearby. As he looked for the source of the voice, a blue mech shimmered into view, leaning against the nearest berth. 

“I really advise against that,” he continued, as though he hadn’t just been invisible. “Ratchet tends to become irritable when mechs poke around where they should not. He quite detests it when they enter his private office.”

Skywarp squeaked, looking for an escape route, but the Autobot blocked off his way to the exit. He could duck into the medic rec room, but that would just trap him. 

Unable to run, unable to fight, he froze. He’d been doing that a lot lately. 

“Relax,” the mech said. “If I wanted to hurt you I’d have done it while I was watching you out in the ruins.”

That...was not remotely reassuring.

*

Mirage bit back a grumble when Skywarp leapt away from him, diving into the medics’ break room and slamming the door behind him. He’d probably said the wrong thing. He’d never been good with younglings—or people in general, if he was being honest. Too much time spent invisibly watching and listening, not enough time actually talking to anyone but other SpecOps agents. His old noble habits didn’t help matters either. 

It was a shame. Jazz had had him watching Skywarp out in the ruins for cycles before they brought him in; Mirage rather liked the youngling. The random doodles he’d scratched into things amused him. 

Should he try to get Skywarp to come out? The medics were busy helping his teammates, but presumably they would want their break room back when they were done. 

He tapped on the door. “What are you doing in there?”

Silence. Typical. 

Normally at this point Mirage would quietly step back into invisibility and hope the problem would resolve itself, but that strategy seemed inadequate when the problem was a frightened youngling.

::Mirage to Ironhide.::

::What’s up?:: Ironhide answered immediately, thank Primus. 

::I found Skywarp wandering the back of the med bay. I believe I spooked him; he’s currently barricaded in the medics’ break room.::

:He was supposed to stay with Prowl and Thundercracker!:: Ironhide didn’t give Mirage time to respond. ::All right, I’ll come get him. Thanks ‘Raj.::

The comm line dropped. Mirage quietly returned to his teammates, hoping they wouldn’t question his absence. Hound and Jazz always seemed to know when he left invisibly, but they didn’t often bring it up.


End file.
